


To the Sensational Jaws

by PaulaMcG



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 1975, Blood-Injury Phobia, Boys In Love, Christmas, Christmas Music, Friendship, Haemophobia, Jaws, London, London Underground, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Pre-Sirius Black in Azkaban, References to Violence in a Film, Wimpy Bar, cinema
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulaMcG/pseuds/PaulaMcG
Summary: This is what Peter sees when he goes to the cinema with his friends on the 27th of December 1975 .
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 2





	To the Sensational Jaws

**Author's Note:**

> Peter and his friends will never help me make any money. This piece can stand on its own, but it also belongs to the same extensive story in my Rowling's-first-five-novels-compliant universe as the rest of my fanfiction. My Marauders were born in 1957 and 1958, and this story is set at Christmas of their last Hogwarts year, after Sirius has bought his flat and stayed in London for one summer.

“O tidings of magic and joy!” The siriusly off-key singing is echoing around his posh flat, as I spin to a stop in the fireplace. “Magic and joy! Bless you, merry Wormtail!”

“Happy Christmas!” James pushes out of the green flames and past me. “You did get a tree! We’ll really have a second Christmas here!”

“Actually the third one for me: the merriest Christmas. No offence to your parents!” Sirius claps James on the back – and as an afterthought me, too. “Or have you two already been drinking a lot, or why didn’t you Apparate?”

I snort. “What do you think: that we enjoy climbing all those stairs?”

Now there’s birdsong in the stairwell. Moony is crazy: climbs and, breathless, whistles a signal.

His loyal Pads has padded to the door, responding with a similar fluting sound. After flinging the door open he spreads his arms. “Our merry Moony! How fitting: the winter song of robin redbreast.”

“Or not: we’re no more in separate territories. Ever Merrier Christmas to you – all! Prongs! Wormtail!”

“Merry Christmas,” I mumble, nodding to each of them while taking off my winter coat. Remus sometimes has this effect on me, makes me adopt some manners. But even though the weather’s unseasonably mild, his Muggle attire looks somewhat lacking: instead of a jacket or a coat he’s wearing only a jumper and his long knit scarf.

He seems to have forgotten a hand on Sirius’s shoulder when the Christmas tree has attracted his attention. “That is beautiful.”

Not bad. No garish colours, just gold and silver, and the lights are like twinkling stars. “Elegant decoration. Even artistic – our Pads himself may still turn out to be,” I add. “Or perhaps he got it ready-made, simply chose the most expensive one.”

“No,” James defends him, of course, “You can trust Pads in matters of style: clothing, why not decoration, too. And this must be a unique tree a la Pads. Look at the top!”

Instead of the conventional star, there’s a crescent moon.

“I’m going to charm it to follow the real moon’s phases, but...” Sirius sounds pleased with himself in any case.

As if he needed it, Remus pats his arm reassuringly. “It is a waning crescent now, and I don’t mind it staying in this best phase.”

“There’s something else dedicated to Moony in tonight’s programme,” James announces.

“What do you mean?” Strange enough, Remus looks like he wouldn’t mind if the general attention turned away from him. Perhaps because he wants to sneak to a corner to pat his dog in its human shape a bit more thoroughly. “We’re going to the cinema, aren’t we, and that’s something new to both Sirius and me.”

“That’s right. We’ll enjoy a tube ride to Harringay: there’s a good cinema, ABC Turnpike Lane. And as my present I’ve already got tickets for all of us. To a film titled after our mysterious Remus J. Lupin.”

“No!” I’ve gasped. “Bad idea.”

“Yes!” James is jubilant. “Jaws. It was Hollywood’s sensation last summer. It’s still a sensation, and now finally it’s released here. That’s the film we must see.”

“Is there a film called…? I shouldn’t have told you the awful middle name the Registry forced…”

Sirius has waved his wand towards the kitchen and, demonstrating his effortless voiceless spells, Summoned a Muggle beer bottle, uncorked, too, to hover in front of each of us. “Wait a minute! I’ve seen some adverts, yesterday as soon as I arrived. But it’s not about a wolf.”

“Thank God! But it’s bad enough… Bad idea, I say.” I don’t want… I can’t watch it.

Bad enough to hear Dad talk about the sensation, push the newspaper with the pictures in front of me, describe the horror after enjoying it with his mates. Trust him to enjoy it. Lazy and violent bastard: just sit back and watch the killer shark do the job… Now he’ll force Mum to join him for his second viewing. I thought I escaped. He wasn’t happy – but agreed when I said I’d go to the cinema in London, where a friend had already paid for my ticket, too. And now my story’s turned out too true.

I haven’t focused on what they’ve been saying, but…“I don’t think Moony’s going to… that Moony would like it,” I try to make it not final.

“It’s all right,” he says in his meek tone. “I think I’ll find it exciting.”

Sirius finds another reason to touch Remus: to rub his neck. “A proper introduction to Muggle entertainment for the two of us! Let’s drink to it: to the sensational Jaws!”

The music’s been ominous, but this scene is nice. To be part of a big group like this in summer! This boy looks a bit lonely, though. Pretty like Remus. When he lets his hair grow like Sirius’s… I glance to my left to check. Yes, he looks… now mesmerised. The two of them – perhaps they’re even forgetting to covertly hold hands. But this guy’s after a girl. This could be me. Clumsy with trousers and socks when drunk, I won’t make it to the water.

But she – oh, God – screams like… Mum! I can’t… I could get out: there’s no one on my right. But if I just don’t look, they won’t know. It’s all red, torn, the flesh, I can still see it. No, on the screen there’s not…

Calm now. It’s fine. Oh how happy family. Why now, don’t show that red palm to me. All right, I’m not looking; I can take it. But there’s a threat in it, foreshadowing: will this boy die?

Safe here. There’s no body… or now that guy’s seeing it. I mustn’t see it. I’ll see just… the Christmas cards Remus had painted: for me a rat wearing a bobble hat, sitting on a wrapped present. What a gift: a picture of a present! What a gift he’s got in his left hand’s ability. On the screen… a severed hand! I must look away. His mauled hands after the Willow Incident, and… a severed hand – mine!

I can’t do this. When I don’t look, I see something worse. Now I must… Concentrate!

Let’s see. We’re descending the stairs of this Victorian building. James is leading, just in front of me. Funny – isn’t it funny I was afraid he’d drag us all to see something romantic: his choice to watch beside Lily. Of course, Lily’s the kind of girl who wouldn’t mind watching a thriller, even horror.

“Why’s Lily not coming?” I ask him.

“She’s in Spain with her parents and sister.” He sighs.

I start singing with mock sentimentality, “It’ll be lonely this Christmas...”

“Lonely and cold...” Remus behind me joins in with emotion.

“Not this third Christmas,” Sirius says.

And as I turn my head, they’re pawing each other again, but Sirius draws his hand back as soon as he notices I’m watching.

“Mother Potter gave me your regards,” he says to Remus, instead.

“You could’ve come to Godric’s Hollow earlier.” There’s a reproachful tone in Remus’s response. “At least on Christmas Day morning. To help her at the charity feast as James and I did before our Christmas dinners. You knew I’d be in that church again, though I couldn’t make it last year.”

Without looking back I slow down, so as to hear Sirius’s voice, which starts as soft mumbling.

“No, I couldn’t… bear even the thought of those who… how it was when I… I will, another year. Now when finally I have my own place, I wanted to start my own Christmas at home first.” Now he barks a laugh. “And I slept too late.”

This is going well. Perhaps I could fall asleep. I’m not even listening to the film. All that arguing. Like at home – better not hear. At least pretend to sleep, as if all this suspense were too boring for me. Just as Dad complained, after all: too much Hitchcock style, instead of a good amount of… gore. Yes, boring. With my body relaxed and eyes closed, I’m fooling us all: I’m asleep.

No! Screaming again. It’s the two of them; I look left only, as if they’d woken me up. First-timers, they forget it’s not real. Or they just found a reason to cling to each other. I can’t bear watching them either. Horny canines!

Oh, swim back! What did they see in the water? I mustn’t start imagining. My pulse is slow, really slow now. Maybe sleep again… 

Between half-closed lids, I can watch this: a bright and warm scene. Some summer I’ll get to a beach like this with happy people.

But now that police chief’s worried; I’m worried. There’ll be an attack, and someone… This old man, or this boy who goes out again with the lilo? Sliding lower, I close my eyes. Maybe listen to this ominous music, so as to know when it turns safer again.

Oh, what… ! I jerk to sit up, glance just left again. Remus has nudged me with an elbow and now thrusts a popcorn box into my hands without looking away from the screen. Yes, he’s actually fascinated by the terror these people are feeling.

Disgusted, I look down at the popcorn. Only James and Sirius bought popcorn; only now do I remember we were supposed to share. All right, I’m focused on eating now.

There’s a change in the music, and I glance up. The lilo floats to shore, and around it in the water… No! The box slips from my grip, falls over, tumbles to the floor. There’s popcorn spilling all over, and I bend down to retrieve the box. Around it… I don’t dare touch the dark floor.

I’m dizzy, and I keep my head between my knees, just pretending to fumble for… I must look stupid. Their stupid popcorn.

Leaning back again, I can’t convincingly doze off at once. Are they going after it, in that small boat? They’re crazy. All three of them. Yes. Brody, this police chief with a family, is James. Hooper, with his learning, understanding, fascination of beasts, is Remus. And Quint – tough, obsessed, out of control, he’s Sirius. At least Hooper and Quint are no soulmates.

Now at the sea, there’s no escape: it’s coming. One or two of them will die, I know, but how? In the jaws!

No, let’s go back. To Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where, on our way to Holborn tube station, the park with its bare trees is on our right now. The pair of them are walking together in front of James and me. Remus has dug his hands into the front pockets of his trousers, and Sirius’s hands are in the pockets of the leather jacket. But their arms are almost rubbing together.

“How are the sheep doing?” Sirius asks. “What about your mother’s theatre?”

Remus tilts his head towards him, and all but whispers his replies. Because he doesn’t think I want to listen – or because he does?

Now I don’t, but I end up hearing: all that drunken blather and singing in the boat. Pissed, at least these two. How foolish! And what’s this? Comparing scars! Yes, that’s him: he claims he wants to always hide the worst, first ones, but soon after we found out, he got used to exposing any new, temporary ones to us, if never to others. Carelessly pushing up the sleeves of his robes soon after the full moon: showing first the bandages, sometimes with some red seeped through, then the scars. We had to learn to change to stop that. And then late last winter his Pads – so much for his loyalty – causes him to maul… after all, only himself, again. I don’t want – I can’t look at him right after that. Any scar’s enough: I can imagine the worst ones, and the worst that could have happened – that could happen.

And what will happen to these three, as they’re all so careless? Now it’s coming. Look away. At his face with the reflections from the screen. He’s distressed now – perhaps because he’s listened to Quint’s story, as if he’d listened to the poor little rich boy again. Like two years ago, when he told us not to ask Sirius how it was, running away from home – because he didn’t want to talk about it to anyone else, not even to James, whom he’d already called his brother before. 

But Remus is my best friend, and I was his. Until this reckless, rebellious, rash – charmer… who now brags about treating us all to an exceptional Christmas dinner: at Wimpy’s, of all places!

Let’s go in there! That’s what Sirius says suddenly on Kingsway, near the underground station, pointing across the street. “Surprise! I’m going to treat you all to some food, too, not only booze. I’ve just discovered this place.”

James and I exchange glances, roll our eyes.

I also chortle. “Wimpy Bar. That’s where you go with Mum and Dad.”

James adds, “Or for milkshakes when you’re a little schoolboy!” I think he’s siding with me this time, but… “But of course not with Mummy Walburga and Daddy Orion. And they didn’t let their noble heir loose to explore London as a little schoolboy.”

I don’t tell them that I never went out for a milkshake or a film or anything without Dad. “Now that some of us are eighteen why not go to a pub?” 

Remus cuts in, “But Pad’s already made us drink more than enough. And for me, too, who grew up among sheep, this wimpy is as new and exciting as the tube and the cinema.

“I doubt that – all that, just so you know.” Sirius laughs, opening the door for Remus to enter first. “But I insist, as this is my traditional Christmas meal – a tradition started yesterday.”

He chooses a table and places himself next to Remus, of course. Since the four separate seats are attached to the table, they at least can’t touch except with hands and feet under the table. 

“Hello, Kosta! Bring us four banana milkshakes, please! And… ” he says to the young man in a Wimpy cap – a Turk or a Greek – and points at the menu. “Wimpy Special Grill is good: egg, chips, meat and grilled tomato. I had it for breakfast, too.”

“I wager you prefer a bender,” I say to Remus, trying to sound serious but not managing to suppress a grin. “What say you: egg bender, or bender egg, or bender in a bun with cheese?”

“Anything you recommend,” he says, with a lopsided, still strangely dreamy smile, so that I have to wonder if he knows the slang meaning but just doesn’t feel offended. “You know what I like.”

But Sirius frowns while finding for him the most expensive portion, Wimpy International, which has no sausage. It’s all cheap, but Remus repeats that he’ll pay to both James and Sirius afterwards, because he’s got no Muggle money. I’m sure he could have exchanged some on the way, or is Gringotts not open today? Oh, it’s Saturday. Anyway, perhaps that ancient family estate is not rich with cash.

“It wasn’t necessary to bring us here,” I say, having pointed at the same moderate portion as James, Delta Grill. “Nobody can be ravenous after Christmas with parents. Not even Remus… Or don’t you ever eat any of your sheep?”

“You know well that he can eat a lot anytime,” Sirius says.

And James adds, “As we all can – eat and drink! To eating and drinking!” He toasts with his milkshake and starts slurping through the straw before we’ve lifted our shake cups.

I shouldn’t have sucked that sweet and fatty drink, let alone eaten the whole of my portion. My stomach’s churning. I’m… seasick. Closing my eyes does no good. I turn my head to the right and stare into the darkness. Really, this is boring – the film lasts forever.

What now? Hooper’s going into a cage. As if he were the beast. And it’s as if we were all saying goodbye to him, and he looks so vulnerable, even more so when they remind him to take off his glasses. He who is one looks like that – and has let them lock him in, and has been let out for the full-moon night only since the summer before last, only thanks to our magic. He doesn’t need to be scared anymore. And he can’t understand I am – more again after last winter’s Incident. Now it’s that music! It’s coming. 

Just breathe… slow, close to sleep… Sleep…

It’s over. Just those two in the boat. That’s it: the one to die was him; he’s gone.

But now the boat’s a wreck, and it’s too small. They won’t make it. At least one more or both will die before managing to kill such a powerful… Or… let it swim free! Now, can they see it swimming away? There’s no menace, just quiet… No!

But it must sink the boat to be free and rule the ocean. No! I know Quint must die. But I must not see it!

Breathe. But I’m still seeing it. It’s real; there’s… his breathing, no music!

Did I faint? Now is it all over?

No, Bobby Brody won’t give up. What can you do? You won’t make it. Give up; you’ll sink and drown anyway. Let it swim and rule! No!

It’s all exploded, so much of it, showers of it: flesh… torn, red! 

It’s spreading – on both sides of my closed lids. Breathe, slow. Go down… an escalator, steep, deep, fall into sleep. No, there’s a nightmare: I’m seeing it. Don’t fall; hold on to the escalator.

Down, and up, and down again, the two of them standing in front of me, laughing, and I’m laughing at them – at their adventure: finding fun and excitement in just, of all things, riding an underground station escalator!

Now is it finally the end? Two of them, side by side, managing to keep afloat, heading home. Hey, they can’t be serious: Hooper’s back; can he be Sirius? Perhaps Brody is Remus, after all. I’m all mixed up.

“You all right?” Remus is standing, bending over me. He looks pale, his eyes are wide, and Sirius’s hand is on his shoulder.

I struggle up, stumble on the popcorn box, as I turn right to get out of the row, and people from behind James jostle past us.

“I’ll get you one of those Jaws pendants,” Sirius says, and this time I don’t mind he’s talking only to Remus.

“A bloody good film, right?” James grins to me.

“Good...” I nod, and manage, “The music. Otherwise a bit boring.”

**Author's Note:**

> The American thriller film Jaws, directed by Steven Spielberg, was released in the United Kingdom in December 1975. Lonely This Christmas by the English glam rock band Mud topped the UK charts a year earlier and remained a popular Christmas song.


End file.
